Rant -- what I have learned to be American

Hey there pigtailed boy! Bring me tea! But in this Great American Land you we don' t see.

You who build the railroad, you who vineyarded the grapes, you who made the cigars, you who served us food in your innumerable "family restaurants," you who engineered our roads, bridges, and electronics, you who imported and exported our affordable products, and you who even won a Nobel Prize or two...

You must pick up the gun to be American!

1. To defend your friend's right to say anything that he damn pleases;
2. To kill whoever that you disagree with.

America, you taught me just that!
Thanks, America, now I am a Man.

I can kill with ease because I have a gun.
I have learned, finally, how to be American.

Poem about Chinatown -- not the ID

Nobody gives a shit about us

The high walls I cannot scale

( with apologies to Tu Fu )

Desolate in my Chinatown morning,

among the scraps and people sleeping in urine

doorways, I ache from the politics of the heart.

Pigeons flock together in Hing Hay Park,

no children to greet them.

I walk for my sanity, since alone in my room

before dawn, the mind constructs improbable things.

The city is humming for profits

and I wait for the porridge place to open.

A bowl of sampan porridge

adorned with a clump of watercress.

These Chinese and I are one, scattered

in the four corners of the globe.

I only have enough to pay for one bowl

and so sorry, my friend, I must dine alone.

Koon Woon

2012 18^th Ave. South

Seattle, WA 98144-4324

August 5, 2005

lockkaukoon@aol.com

(206) 329 - 5566